Others used to tell me frequently that autumn was their favorite season. I’d smile and nod. Summer was my favorite and it was bittersweet for me when autumn came to visit. The start of a new school year rendered me zombie-esque until after Columbus Day. Lots of outdoor house chores to be done in addition to everything else. The only time I had to take a good look at the changing season was my early morning drive to school and the initial view through the expansive windows in my classroom.
But this fall, this fall…it was indescribably beautiful. And I reached an understanding of the widespread affinity with autumn. The months of September and October were divine this year. Temperatures averaged higher, the sun shone constantly, and it was glorious. I’m usually mourning the loss of ability to swim outdoors. Thankfully this year I was able to push that aside to focus on other benefits of the seasonal change.
November is a changeable time of year. It brings us Election Day, Veterans Day, and my personal favorite, Thanksgiving. My birthday is also in November, always around Election Day. The year I turned 18, my birthday was two days after Election Day and it was a Presidential Election year. Frustration.
No matter what, my memories flit back to my early childhood in Burlington. The weather turned cool and crisp. As a family we went apple picking and watched cider being made. My mother made homemade applesauce and apple crisp. We popped corn in a basket in the living room fireplace and washed it down with warm, mulled cider. Casseroles appeared in the dinner rotation. I love them to this day.
The westerlies begin to howl during November. They bring the storms and colder air in from Canada. It’s always a guess as to when snow will appear. As a kid, there was usually a fair amount of snow on the ground by Thanksgiving. Now, due to global warming, it’s not guaranteed. Honestly, as I age I’m pretty happy if the footing is good on Thanksgiving.
My main chore on Thanksgiving was to polish the silver for dinner. My paternal grandparents came to Vermont to spend the holiday with us. It was expected that we’d trot out the finery and help our mom to make sure things were practically perfect. Mom’s China and silver were used. The big silver water pitcher had to be polished and washed. Tablecloth and napkins were freed from their plastic wrapping from the dry cleaner’s.
Our dining room table was oval. The extra leaf needed to be added to the table. My dad and brother handled that task. Once the silver was polished, it was then my job to set the table. I made a game of it by doing it in assembly-line fashion, doing laps on the oval braided rug that our oval dining room table sat on.
Despite my dislike of polishing the silver, I rather enjoyed dressing up the table. I loved handling the treasured pieces that were used…the cranberry dish, the small tray that held the celery and olives, the water goblets. I retain ownership of some of these items. What I lack is a family to share it with.
My hope is to begin a tradition in the New Year that will include a return to cooking and hosting one small dinner party a month. My culinary skills are rusty but that can be fixed. I’d like to pull my personal treasures out of hiding and use them. At the very least, it will warm my heart to make them useful once more.
“O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn’s being.” I enjoyed this poem so much, even though I’m not a huge Shelley fan, I vowed to name a horse West Wind if ever I owned a horse. What a stupid name. I’m more of a Keats or C.S. Lewis fan. Lewis told us, “You find the strength of a wind by trying to walk against it, not by lying down.”
Face the wind and don’t retreat. It may wash away troubles and bring fresh opportunities. We just don’t know.
Stories Are For Eternity 